


When I turn jet black (and you show off your light)

by Louie_writes



Series: Leave me your star dust (to remember you by) [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, Uhm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, beaware of that, dark as shit, i have 0 braincells left so i barely remember what i wrote, if your triggers include depression or sexual assault pls stay away and be save, the sexual assault is important tho, this is a recovery fic tho cause my brand is recovery fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 13:22:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18181163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louie_writes/pseuds/Louie_writes
Summary: Kenma's perspective on a common or garden trope of university/ school separation keeping childhood friends apart. There is nothing more to it I swear. I write angst exclusively and thats that. Cue Kenma dealing with unhealthy coping mechansims.OrJust seeing the pictures would be one thing; he could chalk the jealousy up to being intrusive thoughts, but every picture was accompanied by some sort of joke or a funny anecdote.Hair style mistake (6:45 pm): insta bonded w michiru bc we were both caps in hs. never thought i'd join a girls sleepoverHair style mistake (4:02 pm): mio is so smol and adorable i luv her!!!Hair style mistake (7:20 pm): lost meat eating competition against sayori today #defeatedThe worst, however, were messages about the girl with the wandering hands.Hair style mistake (6:34 pm): kaede just said she would show me 'how to pleasure a man' lmao





	When I turn jet black (and you show off your light)

**Author's Note:**

> Title: "Boats and birds" by Gregory and the hawk. Same for series title
> 
> Hewwow
> 
> don't be scared off by the greeting, I have something important to say:
> 
> This fic is part of a series, two pieces are out so far and I will publish a third one. The point of the matter is that the first two can be read in 3 possible ways,
> 
> Kenmas persepective
> 
> Kuroo's perspective
> 
> Both perspectives interchanged (so you keep things in the same time frame and understand what happens on one side and what it looks like on the other) if you change between both fics at each horizontal line.
> 
> Now I won't tell you how to live your life or read my fics, go nuts for all I care and read them backwards, but personally, I would recommend reading Kenmas perspective the first time through and then Kuroo's.
> 
> Now without further ado, enjoy the pain.

Kuroo’s graduation changed things.

 

Kenma wasn't quite aware how attached he had been to Kuro until he was gone. Kuro had been gone before, but then he just went to a different school and they were always still neighbours and Kenma was only very little at that time. Three years later, Kuro had moved out and school took out way more time of their day, which meant that Kuro was busy and no longer available.

 

To top it all off, right after Kuro had moved out and tried to deal with the transition between teenage boy and adult, he went on a midnight adventure with Bo and busted his knee. His doctor said he could never play volleyball again. Kuro was devastated, but school was starting and so he didn’t have time to mourn his career. Kenma wished he could be _there_ and be capable of helping in any way. Usually volleyball did the trick, but volleyball was the source of pain now. Kuro didn’t even like to watch it anymore.

 

Kenma wished the phone calls had the effect Kuro said they did, Kenma wished they could help in a meaningful way, Kenma wished they weren't becoming less frequent.

 

–––

 

Bo suggested joining their university's girls volleyball team as a manager. Kuro did it after being hesitant for a few weeks. Uncertain about acting in a passive position, when he craved to get in the field himself.

 

Kuro adored it. He started calling more, started messaging, sending pictures every other hour, going to physical therapy.

 

Kenma started to wish he didn't. Every picture of Kuro was with him having at least one girl from the team in his arms, every other picture had them being goofy, and that one girl with the hooded eyes and the wild, long, open hair definitely had wandering hands. Kuro was living, and Kenma was slowly dying.

 

Just seeing the pictures would be one thing; he could chalk the jealousy up to being intrusive thoughts, but every picture was accompanied by some sort of joke or a funny anecdote.

 

Hair style mistake (6:45 pm): insta bonded w michiru bc we were both caps in hs. never thought i'd join a girls sleepover

 

Hair style mistake (4:02 pm): mio is so smol and adorable i luv her!!!

 

Hair style mistake (7:20 pm): lost meat eating competition against sayori today #defeated

 

The worst, however, were messages about the girl with the wandering hands.

 

Hair style mistake (6:34 pm): kaede just said she would show me 'how to pleasure a man' lmao

 

All messages were bad for his heart, but messages like those were the ones that made him the most violent about it. Kaede with her shared love for volleyball. Kaede with her wits and book smarts, Kaede and the way she could keep up with Kuro. Kaede and the way Kuro didn’t push her hands off.

 

Kenma should have known that good looking, athletic, intelligent people discover the other sex once they got to college. Taking a huge rip out of Kenma’s life and heart with them.

 

* * *

  


All things considered, chances were that Kuro probably would have moved on from him once he got to college either way, having met a grander pool of people to choose from—more athletic, more intelligent, better looking. In hindsight, Kenma was glad that he didn’t have a relationship to lose in the first place. Just a friend.

 

His next course of action was to get over Kuro, then.

 

He tried throwing himself into volleyball, but it reminded him of Kuro and it didn’t occupy his mind enough to get the edge off. He also lacked the stamina to let it take up his entire day like it would Bokuto or Kuro.

 

Kenma needed another outlet, something to throw himself in wholeheartedly that would make the constant buzzing in his brain stop. He didn’t know what to do until a guy from a parallel class asked to meet him behind the school after classes.

 

The guy was tall, had dark hair, and a dangerous look in his eye. Kenma agreed to meet him without telling anyone about it or thinking about maybe being robbed or beaten up or otherwise harassed by a classmate with a dangerous aura.

 

His first make-out session was with a guy from another class whose name he didn’t know and who he climbed him like a tree because there was something incredibly satisfying about humping the shit out of a random dude. His brain was quiet for twenty minutes.

 

–––

 

There was something significantly less awesome about seeing that same guy in the hallway of their school, him looking at Kenma and then turning to his group of friends to whisper something to them that made them giggle and look at Kenma again. He decided to ignore them.

 

After class, the guy asked to meet him behind school again. Kenma agreed to go. He didn’t ask what he told his friends, nor did he ask what their arrangement was. He wanted to make out and get off and then get the hell out of there.  
  
They made out.  
  
They got off.  
  
Kenma got the hell out of there.

  
  
Kenma’s sexual adventures made the rounds. Apparently, he had slept with a whole of three guys already, easily submitting to anyone that asked for it. Some people addressed him directly with questions. Kenma denied any of them, but without enthusiasm, others he didn’t even bother answering.

 

What he really, _really_ didn’t need though was Tora and Shohei sitting him down and asking him about his situation. Kenma told them he was fine, that those rumors were fake, and he didn’t know where they had come from. 

 

The guy asked to meet him again, and Kenma agreed again. Kenma was just about to go around the corner to get behind the school building when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Shohei. How he was found and whether or not Shohei had a clear image of what Kenma did in his free time was a riddle to him, but he knew that he was grateful to be kept from going around that corner— he could hear that guy giggling to his friends about ‘pulling a prank on that slut guy’. Kenma let himself be steered stirred away by his friend.

 

* * *

  


The buzzing in his brain started again.

 

He couldn’t concentrate on volleyball again.

 

Pictures of Kuro came in every day, mixed with messages asking how Kenma was and why he had been so quiet. Kenma was about to respond to that in a manner or another when he saw a picture that truly broke his heart. It was of a blond middle blocker. A first year. Tall enough to reach Kuro in height and shy, golden eyes looking into the camera from behind black-rimmed glasses. Kuro had taken her under his wing seemingly, represented by how he had thrown an arm around her shoulder, and he appeared like he was particularly proud her for mastering a new move he had taught her.

 

Hair style mistake (5:15 pm): taught yue how to do the time difference attack. So proud!! Kinda reminds me od tsukki

  
Kenma threw his phone so hard against his wall that he left a dent and cracked his screen.

 

* * *

 

Finding tall, dark, brooding guys that were interested in him was surprisingly easy once he knew what to look for.

 

There was one who had to take the same train stop but not train as him. Going by his uniform, his school must not be particularly close to Kenma’s, and going by how much he was looking Kenma’s body up and down he seemed to be down to scratch that itch Kenma had.  
  
So Kenma changed commutes.  
  
He followed the guy through a crowd of people to the back of the train and stopped in front of him when he turned around. The train set itself into motion and Kenma lost balance and grabbed hold of the guys’ shirt. The train was crowded, certainly, but not enough that he couldn’t have found a hold somewhere else if he wanted.  
  
“I’m sure you usually take a different train.”  
  
“I like this route better.”  
  
He still hadn’t let go of the shirt.

 

––––

 

Kenma got his first handjob in a train station toilet.

 

And his second.

 

And his third.

 

Kenma found it functional so he did it again and again. One of them wasn’t satisfied though. The one that turned Kenma around to push him against the stall wall to pull his pants down. Kenma wasn’t really feeling it but he let it happen.

 

Or he would have if his stall door hadn’t burst down at that very moment.

 

He was sure they locked it every time.

 

Shohei stood in the door and stared Kenma in the face, then gave Kenma’s stall partner a look that he couldn’t name but made the other guy curse and leave the stall.

  
Kenma pulled his pants back up.

  
  
“How did you find me?”  
  
“I have my ways.”  
  
“Did you follow me?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“... did you microchip me?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Hmm.”

 

* * *

  


The next guy that found Kenma’s interest sat in the seat in front of Kenma when he rode the train into the city to get new knee pads.

  
  
He was lanky with blond locks that fell into his face. The look in his eye was so positively predatory that Kenma could feel the buzzing in his brain calm down by looking into them alone. The fact that the guy had raised his foot to sit in between Kenma’s legs on his seat just sealed the deal.

 

–––––

  
  
Kenma gave his first blow job in the university dorms of some college at the edge of Tokyo with a name that he could not remember for the life of him.

 

Kenma adored giving blow jobs. It made his jaw sore and his throat ache and he came too close to vomiting five too many times for his liking. But when his mouth was busy his brain was busy as well, and whenever his concentration started to slip in class or in volleyball he would concentrate on that pain and come back to the moment.

 

He got the guys number, and whenever he contemplated if ‘Kaede’ had similar thoughts about blowing Kuro that he had about blowing that guy, he texted that number to get rid of those thoughts.

 

––––

 

Kenma had visited that guy for happy blowjob time five times already when they discovered that pulling on Kenma’s hair would make loud moans erupt out of him. The guy kept a tight grip on his hair at all time from then on. The thrusts into his throat became deeper and more rapid, and the guy could sometimes not decide between coming down Kenma’s throat and coming all over his face. Kenma was finding those sessions less and less fun, but they still did the job, so he still went there for the sake of silence in his head.

 

After one particularly intense session, Kenma was left with a coughing fit. He had to try to flush the come down his throat properly by drinking what must be three full glasses of water from the bathroom sink.

 

From the corner of his eye he could see the guy recovering from where he had been kneeling on the floor, boner still standing as strong as ever, eyes fixed on Kenma’s face.

 

Kenma knew what would come here—the guy from the train station bathroom had worn a similar look back then, so he let it happen.

 

The guy pulled Kenma’s shirt off with a force that Kenma didn’t deem handy for clothes removing, bent him over the sink, pushing his face into the now thankfully empty bowl, and pulled his pants down with a similar sort of force.

 

The bathroom door burst open.

 

How the hell Shohei knew that he was here, let alone got into the dorm, into the room, and even knew that they would be in the bathroom was beyond Kenma. What he noticed, however, was the angry look on his face. On any other person it would only count as mildly disgruntled, but it was the closest to a death glare that Kenma had ever seen him wear. And it was directed at the guy behind Kenma.

 

The guy pulled his own pants up, backed away with his tail between his legs, and left the bathroom.

 

Shohei made eye contact with him through the mirror reflection. Kenma didn’t know what that look was saying, though. He put his own clothes back on, got his phone from the living room table, waved a half-hearted goodbye to the guy sitting on the bed with his head slumped into his hands, and blocked his number on the way out.

 

“Do you track my phone?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Hmmm.”

 

* * *

  


Kenma was happy things didn’t end up the way they could have and was grateful for Shohei’s interruption, but it also meant that the itch came back and he needed to scratch it.

 

He endured, he lasted, he lived with the itch until he felt a hand run down his ass in another crowded subway. A shiver going through his body, like the purr of a satisfied cat.

 

Kenma twisted his upper body around to make eye contact with the person behind him. This person was significantly older than any of his other adventures, not at all handsome by any means. He was small, not much taller than Kenma himself, on the wider side, and he looked like a businessman. Kenma couldn’t recognize his type in him at all, except that a certain presence of danger made itself known to Kenma. Fear washed over him like an all-consuming wave. The hand was immediately taken back, but Kenma caught his wrist, not letting go.

 

The train took them further than Kenma had ever gone alone, and the itch in his body had turned into a shiver of anticipation. Fear of the unknown had become his favorite flavor.

 

They went to some sort of bar in a back alley. It looked as shabby on the outside as it did on the inside. Loud laughter of several adults rang through the establishment, giving Kenma another spike of ecstasy.

 

Fuck, he didn’t even need to touch anyone anymore; just being in this shabby room full of adults smoking and eyeing him over and yelling at each other over a billiard table in the middle of the room was making him relaxed.

 

The bar was loud, the people boisterous. Kenma’s brain hadn’t been this calm and collected since he had deleted the number of the last guy.

 

The smoke in the air made him cough.

 

He didn’t even know why he was here, but he wanted to be here all the time.

 

–––

 

Kenma didn’t know where his backpack had gone, or when he lost his jersey. Everything was hazy and relaxed, and he felt like his worries were a far off thing that he had left outside the door.

 

The man had taken him to a coffee table surrounded by mismatched couches and loveseats, filled with people ranging from somewhere in their 30s to what must be up to 60s. They passed him around like a note. ‘Alley cat,’ they called him, because the man had said that he had picked him up from the streets. Kenma saw no need to correct them or to introduce himself.

 

At least one hand was on his body at all times; comments were made about his appearance and about the things those people wanted to do to him. He didn’t listen, but he felt pleasantly buzzed and his entire body felt like a muted phone set to vibrate.

 

His brain, his heart, the very blood running through his body seemed to dance to an inaudible rhythm, and Kenma let himself be pulled along.

 

He was passed along, his hair was pulled, something that may have been fingers put into his mouth, clothes were taken off without him noticing.

 

He could feel bites, and kisses and licks, and touches so soft they reminded him that in another life he had been ticklish. But not here, here all bets were off and he didn’t have to be part of life, part of his body, part of whatever history he had left outside the door.

 

His last piece of garment, his underwear, was pulled down and he barely recognized himself exhaling a gasp when everything stopped. Hands that had been on him retreated, clothes that had been pulled off him had been left alone, comments about and to him were silenced.

 

He took a moment to collect himself enough to complain about it, only to recognize that his throat was unwilling to fill the empty air with words.

 

He looked sideways and saw the youngest person that he had seen all day. A child, maybe a teenager. It was hard to keep those two categories apart sometimes.

 

The young person had dark hair, an almost breathtakingly angry look on his face. Scary, boring eyes, and a red track uniform that only barely rang a bell with the alley cat.

 

The young person approached the table with a set of worn track clothes in his hands, and his arm slung into a backpack strap.

 

The adults slowly got up and left the table.

  
  
A moment later, memories started to come back. He looked at the folded clothes, which were in the same shade of red as the one the young person was wearing. All this reminded him of a sport. And balls. Volleyball.

 

This was his tracksuit.

 

His backpack.

 

His friend.

 

“Thanks, Shohei.”

 

“No problem.”

 

–––

  
Nothing was said between the two until they went on the subway. Kenma had decided to not wonder anymore how Shohei knew where and when to find him. He was curious about the location of his clothes though and how Shohei had tracked them down.

 

Kenma never really found out where he had been, but he supposed they were halfway between the bar and home when Shohei said, “None of them will replace Kuroo.”

 

Kuroo.

 

_Kuroo._

 

K u r o o!

 

* * *

  


Kuro and the way he was always attuned to Kenma’s needs. Kuro and the way he had urged Kenma out of his shell, giving him a support system and a hobby he genuinely enjoyed despite it being social and exercise based. Kuro who knew Kenma’s most intimate secrets, Kuro who had sneaked from his own home into Kenma’s room more than once when one of them had been grounded. Kuro who was one of Kenma’s earliest memories and a participant of almost all the others.

 

Kuro the cheesy sap, Kuro the idiot that would give himself life-altering injuries when he spent too much time with Bokuto and tried to distract himself from his anxiety about changing out of a familiar environment. Kuro who made mortal enemies at every new place he went to.

 

Kuro who hadn’t been able to seek comfort from his oldest and closest friend, Kuro who had spent two weeks away from Kenma and suddenly made a bunch of attractive, outgoing, smart, female friends who out of nowhere could form a smile back on his face. Where it belonged.

 

Girls that adopted Kuro as one of their own, girls that wanted Kuro to be the meat of their sandwich, girls that were better than Kenma in every way. Girls that Kenma couldn’t blame for taking Kuro away from him because it seemed the only thing that had kept them together until then was their proximity and familiarity.

 

“It’s okay, Kenma.”

  
  
Shohei caught Kenma’s fist before it collided with his face. Kenma hadn’t even recognized his own actions, only an excruciating stab of white, hot anger than bored through him like a spear.

  
  
“Its okay, Kenma,” Shohei said, gently putting his hand back down. Kenma didn’t know when he had started to cry.

  
  
He pulled his knees up and cried into them as silently as possible, trying to not make a scene in that mostly empty subway.

 

He tried to apologize but the words wouldn’t leave.

 

“It's okay, Kenma.”

 

––––

 

“You look like shit, I gotta say.”

 

Kenma felt like another version of himself would have laughed here, made a jab at Tora about it maybe. That other Kenma felt like a completely different person.

 

Morning practice had been canceled that day. No one had told Kenma. Or maybe he had missed the message. He didn’t know when the last time was that he looked at his phone. Probably when he blocked that blond guy's number.

 

Tora and Shohei were with him, wearing practice clothes, sitting on the ground with him and forming a circle.

 

He didn’t know what to say or to do. He looked at Shohei helplessly, as Shohei seemed to have a better idea of what was going on than Kenma did.

  
  
“Kenma isn’t quite with us yet.”

  
  
Yea, that was it, that was the exact feeling! That certain form of detachment from himself and his location.

  
  
“That’s okay, we’ll wait for you to come back to us.”

 

* * *

  


It took a full week for Kenma’s body and Kenma’s soul to be in the same place again. Luckily he had a pretty effective autopilot.

 

“I want to cut my hair” was the first thing he said to Tora. It had grown past his shoulder during his adventures. It had been nice for a tight hold, but quite frankly he hadn’t taken good care of it in the time, and it had taken some irredeemable damage.

  
  
“Sure thing. Come to my place after practice.”

 

Kenma had only ever been to Tora’s house twice, both times in first year and both times to bring him homework.

 

Shohei was with him that day, and Kenma was grateful for it.

 

––––

 

There was something incredibly cleansing about sitting on a stool in Yamamoto’s bathroom and having his hair cut in front of their big mirror. For whatever reason, Akane and Shohei got along like a house on fire, and when Shohei wasn’t playing with her he was piggy-bagging her around.

 

By the time Tora was done with him, his hair was even slightly shorter than what he had in middle school, and the blond was almost completely gone.

  
  
“A restart?”

 

“Eh, more of a new chapter.”

 

––––

 

He felt like he could breathe again at practice. Volleyball was taking his mind off again. Their second-year setter needed advice and to be broken in before Kenma would graduate, and Tora or Shohei were with him at all times unless he was in class.

 

It was nice, actually.

 

They went to Tora’s place again to bleach his hair, and to touch up on Tora’s since his blond was growing out and they were there at it either way.

  
  
Shohei and Akane played a really elaborate game of “the princess’s personal knight needs to protect her from monsters in the wild as they march to the forbidden forest to get valuable information to the king”. Tora and Kenma played the parts of the evil monsters as they waited for their hair to be done.

 

Kenma liked his new look; maybe he would keep touching it up. Maybe he would let his hair grow. He wondered what he looked like with long, blond hair.

 

“Kuroo is coming to practice tomorrow,” Tora said to the team.

 

Kenma hadn’t known, hadn’t talked to Kuro about things like that in a while. It twisted his gut, but not as much as it would have before, and the itching didn’t start again.

 

Practice came and Kenma saw Kuro in the stands, leaning over the railing. Kuro waved at him. Kenma raised his arm in return. When the inevitable end came he ditched.

 

–––––

 

“Kuroo’s been asking about you.”  
  
“Hmmm.”  
  
“He said you haven’t talked to him.”

“Hmm.”

“Was that stuff that happened because of him?”

  
  
Kenma had to pause there. “Yea.”

  
  
Tora punched his open hand. “Did he hurt ya? Do you want me to beat him up?”

 

Kenma actually chuckled there. “Not really.”

 

Tora held him back before he entered the train station.

  
  
“Before he graduated, Kuroo told me to keep an eye on you. He said you were probably gonna be fine because you are smart and strong, but to keep an eye out for you nonetheless. I intend to keep that promise.”

  
  
Kenma only managed to nod, he entered the train station trying to keep tears of gratitude and several other confusing emotions at bay.

 

––––

 

Kenma enjoyed going to Tora’s place regularly. There was something nice and soothing about touching up his roots, and some sort of pride coming from watching his hair grow.

 

Shohei had taken a liking to experimenting with his hair, braiding it and putting it up into different hairstyles. Akane was usually right next to him on her own little stool, waiting for Shohei to be free to do her hair.

 

One time visiting Tora resulted in a movie night. Tora got them popcorn, Shohei searched for a movie on Netflix, and Kenma just scrolled through social media. Feeling truly at peace for the first time in a long time.

 

He received a text from Kuro. A picture of him in a snazzy red suit with a black dress shirt under it. Kaede behind him, in a dress so tight and backless it made Kenma question his sexuality for a second there.

  
  
Hair style mistake (7:25 pm): #readyforscieneball!! Kaede is two years ahead of me in my program so she shares her old notes w me  

 

Too much. Too good. Too intimate. Too perfect.

  
  
In a move he barely recognized, Kenma threw his phone away from him and launched himself onto Shohei’s lap. He barely had time to recognize Shohei’s surprised face before pulling their faces together for a kiss that felt as if his life depended on it.

  
  
Not good enough. Not good at all. Bad. No. No. Kaede’s hands on Kuro’s back. Kuro’s lips on hers. A girl’s sensual moan.

  
  
A gentle hand pushed him backwards by his shoulder. Abruptly, Kenma let go.

 

Leaning back, still straddling Shohei’s lap he saw the other guy still looking at him surprised.

 

“Nekoma’s brain doesn’t have to act like that.”

 

He fucked up. He fucked up again even though he had been doing so well. One look at how good Kaede and Kuro were together and how well their future would work out for them and he reverted back to his old ways. Tears ran down his face. Damnit!

  
  
A gentle hand landed on his face, wiping his tears away.

 

“Nekoma’s brain doesn’t have to feel ashamed.”

 

Kenma took a deep breath, and nodded.

 

“Damn, what'd I miss here?” Kenma and Shohei both looked Tora coming in, already shoveling popcorn into his mouth. Kenma wiped his tears away and climbed off Shohei’s lap.

 

“Nothing much, let’s watch Aggretsuko.”

 

––––

 

Watching Kenma have his hair bleached seemed to inspire Akane, who said she may do that as well in the future. Her and Kenma talked about what colours they would have if they were to experiment. Akane suggested a pastel pink for him. Kenma wondered what he would look like with red hair. Shoyou said probably an apple or a mermaid. Kenma chuckled at his phone; he liked that idea. Maybe another time.

 

He had missed talking to Shoyou. The little guy had asked about his absence but had taken a “sry, busy” as an acceptable answer and continued spamming him with messages and exclamation marks as if nothing had happened.

 

Kuro came to practice every now and again. Kenma waved at him when he noticed him, and Kuro waved back and grinned. Kenma didn’t know what he would do if Kuro actually attempted to corner him, or even just address him directly.

 

Just before they headed to nationals, Kuro came to speak to the group as their former captain, sharing wisdom and experience and observations he made from the sidelines. The first and second years adored him.

 

In the middle of his speech, he made eye contact with Kenma—a little too long for Kenma’s liking. Their stare off was charged with energy that Kenma couldn’t place, and it made his heart feel like a wild, young animal learning the thrill of speed for the first time.

 

Kenma thought he had calmed down properly until Kuro started the chant, “We are the blood that runs through our veins–.”

  
Tora had kept the speech when he became captain, so it wasn’t a surprise to the junior players when they heard it. Kenma hadn’t liked the speech even when Tora used it in all seriousness. Never before though had his heart been racing as it did that day because of it.

 

Kuro threw one last look at him as he turned around and back to the sidelines where he had spent most practice time. Kenma felt like he was vibrating so hard he may have been glitching into and out of existence.

 

Practice continued, Kuro stayed in the sidelines, Kenma waved at him when he left.

 

Kenma wore his hair up more often. He learned how to do ponytails and buns and braids and experiment with his hair when Tora wasn’t around. It was fun, he liked it, and it became a great morning routine.

 

They only barely missed Karasuno at nationals, and Kenma felt a sense of loss that they couldn’t square off against the other team.

 

He ran into Kuro at the toilets. Literally.

 

“Well obviously I was going to see your game, but I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

 

 _Why?_  
  
_Why??_  
  
_Why do you come? Where are your girlfriends? Are you here for me or the team or school pride?_

 

“Everyone worked very hard.”  
  
“Yea, you did."

  
  
Kenma didn’t know what to do with that look on Kuro’s face.

 

Before Kenma could make any form of comment or ask a question Kuro sped away. Kenma didn’t see him the rest of the day, but Tora said he had stayed to watch the rest of the games.

 

* * *

  


Kenma had double and triple checked his chosen university. It had the exact programming course that Kenma wanted to take; he had a look at the syllabus and class description and reviews online, and there was nothing holding him back from going there—except that it was Kuro’s school with Kuro’s weird new attitude to Kenma’s presence and Kuro’s dozens of volleyball-playing girlfriends.

 

But it also had a teacher who put informative and funny online tutorials about programming on Youtube that Kenma had been following since middle school.

 

And it would have Shohei.

  
  
And Tora’s work wasn’t that far away either.

 

His nerves must have shown though, because out of nowhere Shohei said, “We are going to be with you all the way.” Tora turned around from giving Lev instructions about being a good captain to nod for emphasis and turned back to his second year.

 

Kenma felt that no matter what, with his weird friends by his side he was going to be fine.

 

––––

 

The dorm could be better but it would make do. The campus was a bit too spacious for Kenma to keep in mind where the hell he had to go, but classes were fucking exciting.

 

Kenma’s teachers were either not shit or absolutely amazing. Surprisingly enough, the teacher that had taught Kenma everything he knew about programming via tutorial lived up to Kenma’s expectations, and the only teacher that was a disappointment was a woman that straight up just read what was on her slides in a monotone voice.

 

Kenma couldn’t quite keep up with his self-care to eat three meals a day, but a person from his floor would cook to relieve stress and she was perfectly fine to make food for others if they ordered and paid for the ingredients.

 

Kenma suspected that Shohei would one day apply his quantum physics classes to go back in time to rescue Kenma out of situations he shouldn’t be in.

 

Tora had “the single prettiest co-worker in the world I swear” at his job.

 

–––

 

Kenma didn’t quite know why he got to his favourite bakery a bit earlier than usual. He was barely conscious enough to recognize that he would need a motivational apple pie and a wake-up Mocca if he was going to make it to the office hours of his lecturer, but he jerked fully awake when he found out that Kuro was his cashier.

 

“You go here?” Seemed like Kuro was as unprepared for the situation as he was

  
  
Kenma shrugged; he didn’t know what to say after all.

  
  
“I like the teachers.”

 

Kuro nodded too much.

  
  
“Can I have my order?”

  
  
“Yea yea, wait, sorry, let me ring you up.” Kuro quickly shuffled around, seemingly to make up for lost time he had spent just gaping at Kenma upon seeing him, handed him his food, and gave him his courtly goodbyes. As Kenma turned to leave though he was held back by another call.

  
  
“You have a gym bag?”  
  
“I have to go to training after classes.”  
  
“You continued volleyball?”  
  
“I can’t take down Shoyou if I don’t continue playing,” he said with a smirk.

 

Kuro didn’t have an answer for him. Talking to Kuro, especially with a teasing tone, was as much fun as he remembered, more so even. He had missed it.

  
  
“Do you mind if I go to your games?”

  
That genuinely surprised Kenma. It had made sense in high school since Kenma was a regular and Kuro knew most people there, but here the rules were different. Besides,

 

“If you have time for it.”  
  
“Yea, the boys' games and the girls' games are usually at different times.”

  
  
Ah, yes, the girls. “Do whatever you can’t keep yourself from.” He was probably mostly coming for Bokuto and Yaku either way. Maybe he had made even more friends on that team since he had Bokuto as his social buffer and consequently more time to get adjusted to the foreign environment.

  
  
Kuro grinned widely. Kenma had missed that grin. “See you at your next game, then!”

 

Kenma realized after he left the store, that he hadn’t actually been charged for his order.  


 

* * *

 

Kenma told himself he didn’t have to go, but when he saw the sign that the girls' team would have an official game soon he reasoned it would be important to see as many play styles as possible. Shohei agreed to come along; two first-year players of that team were in his classes and he had made fast friends it seemed.

  
  
Those two players ended up with them in the stands, because they were new enough to the game that they didn’t even make the bench. Aika was riddled with nerves and grateful that she wasn’t qualified to play, while Haruko would have given anything to be on the court. Her frustration showed itself clearly every time an interesting move was done on the field.

 

Kenma had expected himself to spend a significantly higher amount of the game watching Kuro than he ended up doing. He was tempted to watch him in his manager position, sitting on the bench and fevering along to his team playing the game, but Kenma was just as sucked into their play as Kuro was, and it had become somewhat of a game to identify the players.

 

There was Michiru, the captain, standing tall, proud, yelling instructions and encouragements at her teammates.

  
  
There was Mio, their tiny libero. She had always reminded Kenma of Shibayama with a fringe. Her hair had gotten longer and she seemed to be playing more confidently than what Kuro had described her as at the beginning of the year.

  
  
On the left played their ace, Sayori. The only person that could out eat both Kuro and Bokuto. Her spikes were a force to be reckoned with and Kenma’s arm tingled just looking at them.

  
  
Kaede came in to replace Mio on the field and do her serve.

  
  
She waited for the whistle blow, calmly threw the ball into the air, jumped up to hit it, and absolutely decimated the other team with a jump floater. A service ace.

 

Loud cheers erupted from her teammates, Kenma couldn’t help but be impressed honestly. He felt the tension of the other team.

 

Kaede went back to her position to serve. Same routine. Calmly waited for the whistle, calmly threw the ball up, and absolutely smacked it across the field. The only reason why Kenma could predict it to be a jump floater as well was because he had seen Karasuno’s freckle-kun use them, and Kenma had seen their games often enough from the sidelines to know the difference in serves. Another service ace. Shohei released an impressed whistle next to him.

 

“Kaede senpai is teaching me how to do that, you know?” Aika said from next to Kenma, “It’s because she’s graduating soon.”

 

What surprised him more than anything else was the sort of relationship Kuro seemed to have with the girls.

 

Kenma didn’t necessarily know _what_ he had expected, but somehow Kuro high fiving the girls after a won set and putting his hands on their shoulders after a lost one and him exchanging signal like thumbs up when someone had done well or seemed nervous caught Kenma off guard somehow.

 

The closest any of them come to flirting at all was when Kaede’s block had gotten them the winning point and everyone was cheering and running into each other's arms and Kaede eventually removed herself from the group to hug Kuro who hugged her back and clapped her back proudly. That lasted exactly two moments before the two of them were stormed by the rest of the team.

 

Even more surprising was when the team hug released itself and Kaede went along with her people, in the arms of her captain and her libero, seemingly shedding tears of joy, and Kuro stayed with the coach and the adviser to discuss something in his notes.

 

Here Kenma had definitely expected lingering touches, longing looks, something or other to indicate that they were more than friends, more intimate than the rest of the team was to each other. None of that happened.

 

Kenma and Shohei followed Aika and Haruko down to the locker rooms outside of which the rest of the team was celebrating. They introduced Shohei as their friend from class and Kenma as a friend of Shohei’s. Kenma briefly contemplated introducing himself as a friend of Kuro’s, but decided to not unpack all of that.

 

He mingled at the back of the group with Shohei as the girls revised all the best games and Aika fangirled over all of Kaede’s moves as Kuro came back with the instructors.

  
  
“Kenma?” Kuro said, halting to a stop.

 

Kenma shrugged helplessly at him. He would have said something but he was caught off guard by the team _knowing him_ .

  
  
There were shocked gasps and mutterings of “ _the_ Kenma?” and “oh my god its really him” and “his presence is completely different in person” and even Aika and Haruko seemed to be surprised to be knowing him all of the sudden.

 

He awkwardly waved at the group at large, Shohei also did a little wave next to him.

  
  
The entire team turned around to Kuro like they practiced their synchronization for this exact scene, and Kuro flinched just enough to show Kenma that he was put on the spot but trying not to show it.

  
  
“May I introduce you to my friends?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I hope it was worth it <3
> 
> Now I can understand that if you just read Kenma's persepctive and are angry with Kuroo (understandably) that you wouldn't want to read Kuroo's perspective. But i'm begging you please do that it will be worth it.
> 
> if you don't do that pls take a nap or go the fuck to sleep because chances are you really need sleep so do that pls.
> 
> either way have a nice day (or night lets be hoenst), cheerio!


End file.
